


Long Overdue

by mynameisnoneya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Librarians, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: After no one shows up for her free lecture on Lord Byron, Sansa Stark is one frustrated librarian.  Before she heads home, however, the object of her fantasies - the handsome older man she's watched from afar - happens to arrive at the library too late for her talk. . .but not too late for a little something else.





	Long Overdue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/gifts).



> This work was written for my fellow Jaimsa aficionado, Janina. Happy belated birthday, my liege! I hope you enjoy this fluffy tale about a librarian and her knight in shining armor!
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not.
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

Checking the time on the wall clock yet again, Sansa inhaled and exhaled in a whoosh.  Less than twenty minutes until closing time, and not one person had showed up tonight to hear her talk.  Her gaze drifted toward the over-head projector and the folders filled with the handouts she’d planned to distribute during the post-presentation discussion.  Pursing her lips together, she shook her head.

 _Might as well start cleaning up, I suppose_.

As Sansa shut her laptop and unplugged the audiovisual equipment, she chastised herself as usual.  She should’ve known better.  Why in the world did she think that anyone would want to come to the library for a free lecture about Lord Byron in the first place?  It wasn’t like folks had been beating down the doors to attend her lecture series since she’s started it last fall.  Well, the one she’d presented about serial killers a couple of months ago had been standing-room only, but still.  Romantic poetry could be just as captivating as decapitation and dismemberment if people would just give it a chance.

Finished with bundling the cords to the projector, she rested her well-manicured hands on her curvy hips.  She was worn out.  Today had been grueling.  As of last week, school was out for the summer, so a good chunk of her day had been spent reshelving books yanked down by unsupervised children left to run amok by their screen-addicted parents who somehow thought the library was a free babysitter.  Then Lollys had called in sick at the last minute, which meant Sansa had to fill in for her during preschool story time.  Dealing with a room full of drooling, screaming toddlers who’d much rather eat a book than listen to one had left her frazzled.  Top that off with her perpetually hateful coworker, Unella, publically shaming her for “hogging” the copier for over an hour while preparing for tonight, well, call her a woman at her wits’ end.

And to think, it was only Tuesday.

What a week.

Just as she started to scoot the squeaky rolling cart back to its storage location in the closet, she heard a man’s voice behind her.

“Am I too late?”

Startled, Sansa spun on her sandals to face the person who’d magically appeared in the doorway.  Her bright blue eyes widened in shock as she was greeted by a smile which dared to melt her panties where she stood.

_Oh, God!  It’s him!_

Since his first appearance two months ago, the dashing, handsome older man in the exquisitely tailored, high-end suit had turned the staff of the Winterfell Branch Library into a pack of feral dogs.  They’d battled like gladiators in the ring to get to him first when he brought his stack of books to check out.  When he came to the front desk requesting help with finding a particular title, they’d pushed and shoved one another like commuters on the morning metro to be the lucky lady to assist him.  And after he’d leave, for hours her coworkers would wax poetic about his finely sculpted backside or his imagined skill level in the sack.

“I’d hoped to make it on time,” he continued while glancing around the empty meeting room, “but I’m afraid I couldn’t manage to get away from work any faster.”  Returning his gaze toward her, he casually shoved aside some of the shaggy blond strands dangling in his jade-green eyes and flashed his pearly whites at her once again.

Sansa stood immobilized, her mouth gaping in silence.  Though she possessed a graduate degree in English Lit, she couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

“Goodness, where are my manners?” the man laughed, abandoning his position just inside the doorway as he approached.  “I’m Jaime.  Jaime Lannister.”

Her mind raced while watching him extend his hand.  As she placed hers in his, she cleared her throat, hoping that her voice didn’t crack.

“I’m Sansa Stark.  Nice to meet you.”  His grip was firm yet gentle, his skin soft and silky like butter.

“The pleasure is all mine, Sansa.”

Standing there with their hands still joined, her thighs involuntarily clenched together when his lips curved upward and his thumb lightly traced the ridges of her knuckles.  What she wouldn’t give to feel said hand touching her in a few other choice places right about now.

“It’s so nice to have finally met the elusive Sansa Stark,” he joked as he released her.  “I’ve been coming to this library for almost two months now, yet this is the first opportunity I’ve had to introduce myself.  I was beginning to think you were avoiding me on purpose.”

Her cheeks burned like wildfire.  “No, no!” she all but yelped, “I wasn’t. . .I mean, no, I wasn’t trying to. . to. . .you know. . .”

What a load of garbage that was.  This was _exactly_ why she’d been avoiding him like the plague.  Every time he had come within speaking range, she lost half her IQ points.  Standing so close to him now, his expression so warm and inviting, her brain was dissolving just trying to process the angles of his chiseled, lightly tanned features and the velvety-sweet smoothness of his voice.  He was the living embodiment of a Greek god sent from the heavens to enrapture her. . .or maybe a demon sent directly from the seven hells to torture her with his hotness.

Either option sounded equally enticing, come to think of it.

“Forgive me,” he laughed.  “We’ve barely spoken, and here I am teasing you.

Unable to stop herself, Sansa smiled.  “You’re forgiven.”  Lowering her eyes, she peeked up at him through her lashes.  _Take me home,_ she thought to herself, _and you can tease me all you want._

Jaime glanced up at the wall clock before returning his eyes to her.  “I’m sorry I missed hearing your presentation on Byron.  I was really looking forward to it.”

Yet again, Sansa was stunned.  “You were?”

The older man arched an eyebrow in amusement.  “You seem surprised.”

“I am, actually.”

“And why is that?”

Sansa willed herself to behave like an adult for once in his presence.  “Well, to be honest, not many people have shown up for my talks.  The only one I gave which got any attention was the one on ‘Serial Killers and the Media.’ Other than that, it’s mostly me and the crickets chirping in here.”

Jaime chuckled at her admission.  “Surely not!”

“I’m afraid so,” she grinned.   “I guess there just aren’t that many people interested in hearing me drone on and on about classic literature.”

In the blink of an eye, Jaime’s expression shifted gears.  His whole witty, slightly aloof persona which she’d admired from afar these last two months vanished.

“Though I’m sure it is of small consolation, I’m interested.  I’m _very_ interested, in fact.”

Under his intense gaze, Sansa’s mouth went dry.  Her heart fluttered inside her chest like a hummingbird’s wings.  A bead of sweat was forming in the valley of her breasts, and she was quite certain her hands were beginning to tremor.

_Keep it together. . .keep it together. . ._

“So, did you come tonight because you like Byron specifically,” she asked while trying to remain calm, “or do you like the Romantic poets in general?”

Instead of answering right away, he looked at the floor, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I believe I also have a confession to make,” he said as he looked at her again.

Sansa’s curiosity was peaked.  “You do?”

Pulling his lower lip under the top row of his teeth, he paused before he spoke.  “I don’t really like poetry.”

“Oh?”

“And I’m not much of a reader, either.”

“But. . .”  Now Sansa was good and fuddled.  “You’re in here, like, three times week.”  Her eyes narrowed when Jaime’s face betrayed his embarrassment.  “You’re one of the most voracious readers I’ve ever seen, based on the volume of books you haul out of here.”

Jaime’s head tilted to the side.  He studied her for a moment before beginning his explanation.  “Well, you see, the first time I came in here, I’d just moved from King’s Landing, and I was still crashing at my younger brother’s condo.  One morning as I was getting ready for work, he asked me to drop off some books for him at the library since it’s on my way.”

Captivated by his tale, she worried her bottom lip, her breaths coming faster now as she listened.

“So, when I came in, I happened to see you and one of your coworkers chatting at the front desk.”  Pausing for a moment, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked into hers.  “Your laugh. . .it was as gentle and melodic as a summer rain.  I was completely transfixed.  I knew right then and there that I wanted to meet you.”

As Sansa digested his revelation, her mouth fell open, a tiny gasp resonating as her hand jumped to rest on her heart.

Jaime Lannister, one of the most handsome, charming men she’d ever met, had just acknowledged that he was interested in her.  He hadn’t come to the library tonight just to hear her talk about the most eloquent bad boy of the early nineteenth century.  No, he’d come to the library tonight because of _her_.

“Well, I suppose I should let you get back to it, then,” he said, breaking the tense hush which had descended upon the meeting room.

Her eyes darted to the wall clock.  Closing time was looming.

“Good night, Sansa.  I hope to see you again soon.”  With a slight wave, he pivoted on his über-expensive leather shoes and headed straight for the door. 

_Say something, you idiot!_

Sansa was desperate to stop him, yet her mouth wouldn’t move.  She was neither flirty like Jeyne nor seductive like Margaery.  Though secretly she might’ve dreamed of ripping off his clothes and riding him into the sunset, she’d never really been the type to come on to a man.  Sneaking peeks at Jaime through the stacks when he wasn’t watching was more her style.

Yet right here, right now, all she had to do was say the word and he’d be hers. . .for tonight, at least.  She was long overdue for a real man’s affections.  He was nothing like the few guys she’d dated.  Unlike Theon, Jaime wasn’t some pimply faced high school goober whose only concern in life was getting into her pants.  Unlike Harry, Jaime wasn’t some dumb, horny frat boy who was more interested in her trust fund than her.

No, Jaime Lannister was a _man._ He was a man who radiated poise and elegance, an eloquent man whose natural charm and quick wit had captivated her since the first time she’d overheard him talking with the ladies at the front desk.

He was also a man who happened to be twice her age.

What fun _that_ would be to explain to her family and friends if she and Jaime clicked.

But man, oh man. . . it would be _so_ worth it.

“Wait!”  She winced at the volume of her voice.

Upon her command, Jaime stopped in his tracks just inside the doorway, turning to face her.

“I. . .”

Sansa faltered, struggling with what to say.  Her pulse was thrumming like she’d just run a marathon.  Until moments ago, she had no idea that the object of her daydreams wanted her, too.  Now that she knew, what was she going to do?

Before the panic could set in, however, her eyes locked on the projector still standing in the middle of the meeting room.  In a flash of brilliance, she knew _exactly_ what she should do.

“I could give my talk if you’d still like to hear it.”

Jaime’s whole face lit up with merriment.  “Really?”

Gnawing her bottom lip, Sansa nodded.

“I’d love nothing more,” he said while pointing to the clock, “but what about the time?”

“Well, if you’re truly as interested as you say you are, then I suppose we’ll have to take this elsewhere.”

Jaime’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips.  “And what did you have in mind?”

Channeling her inner Margaery as she steadied herself, Sansa gave it her all.  “How about you buy me a coffee at Hotpie’s, and if you’re still interested afterward, maybe I’ll let you follow me home so I can show you all of my notes.”

“All of them?”

“ _All_ of them.”

She was certain Jaime growled.

“Meet me in the parking lot in ten?” she asked.

The sinful curve of his lips made Sansa’s private parts tingle.

“I’ll be waiting,” he all but purred.  When he disappeared into the hallway, she heard the main door open and shut automatically as he exited to the parking lot.

Clasping her hands over her mouth, Sansa muffled the shriek which dared to escape.

And to think, it was only Tuesday.

What a week.

**Author's Note:**

> "There is no instinct like that of the heart." - Lord Byron


End file.
